


The Lion by Torchlight: Companion Works

by kaoruyogi



Series: Songs of the Elvhen Torch Companion Works [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Card Games, Cullenlingus, Dad!Cullen, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Oral Sex, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 13,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaoruyogi/pseuds/kaoruyogi
Summary: This is a companion collection, meant to accompany the story in "The Lion by Torchlight." Each of the chapters will be a little one-shot that I've either already posted in my works, or that I've had yet to post. There were getting to be enough of them that I thought I should make them their own piece, though it should be noted that they are in no particular chronological order, so read at your own risk! This is where random fluff/drabble/smut will live!!! Muahaha! I hope you enjoy!!!





	1. Speed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a (very) little one-off of Halise and Cullen from my fic, “The Lion by Torchlight,” for CullavellanHeaven‘s Cullavellan Week 2016 “Hobbies” prompt on [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com). Halise's name is pronounced "Hah-Lee-Say."
> 
> Halise and Cullen sit down for a little game of cards.

Halise nibbled on the inside of her lip, staring into the amber eyes of her handsome Commander from across the bed. Her own fluorescent green eyes flashed down to the scar above his upper lip just as his tongue and teeth slid across his lower lip. She pressed her lips together and squinted at him while he glared at her determinedly.

Cullen’s shoulders rose and fell heavily with the tension evident in his body. Halise’s breath caught in her throat for a split second before he inhaled quickly and shouted, “Go!”

Her hand shot out to turn over the Ferelden playing card sitting directly in front of her. Cullen gripped and flipped the one in front of him almost simultaneously. She quickly assessed the two cards, an eight of diamonds and a jack of hearts. Looking back down at the five cards gripped between her index finger and her thumb, she saw a queen, a five, a two, a four, and a king.

Halise snatched up the queen with her other hand, slamming it down on top of the jack and immediately doing the same with the king. Cullen pounded a seven onto the eight card as she picked up two new cards from the pile to her right. Spotting the six card, she grabbed it, the five, and the four, thumping them onto Cullen’s seven with a triumphant “Ha!”

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, thrusting his newly drawn ace onto the king. Seeing an opening, Halise struck with her two.

This went on for about two minutes, with both of them trading quips and barbs as they hammered cards onto the bed. Their knuckles collided more than once, Halise just edging Cullen out with her deft, slim fingers. She kept her lips pressed together for her rapid evaluations, parting them only for little laughs and gasps. “No!” she whined when Cullen threw down four cards in a row, catching up to Halise quickly with one motion.

With her last five cards in hand, she just needed Cullen to make two or three openings for her. A wide grin spread over her face as she fidgeted when he put a nine on top of the ten card on the right side. She immediately put down another ten and a jack. He grumbled, pulling up the last card in his pile before putting it on top of the two. A three. Halise slammed down her four, five and her second four with a triumphant shriek.

“Speed!” she shouted before letting out a stream of cackling laughter. She threw her splayed out hands into the air over her head and bounced up onto her knees for a victory dance. Looking down at Cullen, she tilted her head toward him, rocking her shoulders back and forth.

In an instant, he growled, grabbing her roughly under her arms and pulling her to him, eliciting a little yelp from Halise’s throat. The playing cards scattered under her legs as he rolled her under him, his fingers weaving into and clutching the back of her long, spiraled red hair. His red tunic was a sharp contrast to the loose azure one she wore, and they slid across each other as Cullen’s weight bore down on her. Her giggling fit slowed under the heat of his gaze.

“You’re a rather ungracious winner,” he rumbled with a smirk. The warmth of his breath spread over her lips, fogging her mind and pooling passion low within her.

“Well, you’re being a sore loser,” she replied, her voice low and heady. She nipped at his lower lip, sending both of them into a frenzied kiss. He squeezed her to him, their lips and tongues crashing and twining together. Halise sighed and mewled before he pulled himself from her.

“I assure you, my love,” he murmured, “I haven’t lost.”

She smiled against his lips with their next kiss. _No,_ she thought, _neither of us have lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	2. Mir Da'len Somniar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little one-off of Halise and Cullen from my fic, “The Lion by Torchlight,” for CullavellanHeaven‘s Cullavellan Week 2016 “Family” (and sort of the "Sharing Customs") prompt. Halise’s name is pronounced “Hah-Lee-Say.”
> 
> Cullen hears a song from Halise's past, and learns both sad and happy news.
> 
> There are a couple of good versions of the song used in this little story. Check out [this one](https://youtu.be/Zl3CmzQY1So) and [this one](https://irenezhong.bandcamp.com/track/mir-dalen-somniar) for different experiences. Full credit to those artists for their beautiful work.

The soft sound of singing drifted into Cullen’s ears as he opened the door to Halise’s quarters. They had come back from looking for Samson at the Shrine of Dumat only a few days before, and he’d finally completed the report she asked him to write detailing his experience when his face was splattered with red lyrium laced blood. It had been painful and frightening, to say the very least, and she was understanding when he requested extra time to reconsider the incident with a clearer mind.

The melody she sang was soft and enchanting. The words became clearer as he walked up the stairs, though they were in Elvhen, and he still could not understand them.

 

_Elgara vallas, da'len_

_Melava somniar_

_Mala taren aravas_

_Ara ma'desen melar_

 

He saw her when he reached the top of the stairs. She sat on her bed, absently running her pale fingers over the ends of her long curls. The bulk of her fiery hair sat over her shoulder, though a few loose tendrils hung across her back and down to her waist. Her viridescent eyes stared out of her large window at the snow covered mountains on the opposite side of the valley as she sang. He stood silently, with no desire to disrupt her thoughts.

 

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_

_Ara ma ne'dan ashir_

_Dirthara lothlenan'as_

_Bal emma mala dir_

 

Cullen shifted on his feet, apparently making some sort of noise when he did. Halise turned her head only slightly, casting her eyes up to him with the faintest tinge of sorrow. Continuing her song, she turned her gaze back to the window, gently patting a spot on the bed next to her. He took the gesture to mean that she wanted him to join her there, and he did, moving to the spot and sitting as lightly as he could so as not to disturb her.

 

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_

_Irassal ma ghilas_

_Ma garas mir renan_

_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

 

Silence hung in the air after she finished singing. Halise ran her fingers over her eyebrow before she spoke, voice quieter than he was accustomed to, still looking outside. “Mamae used to sing that song to help me and Eirlan go to sleep,” she murmured. “I remember thinking I was too old for lullabies and rolling over in a huff one night. My mother’s voice changed—got sadder—when I turned away, and I knew immediately that it was a horrible thing for me to have done. Eirlan was just four years old, and she popped up out of her little bed, wandered over to me, and tugged on the back of my hair until I rolled back over. Then she crawled into bed with me and made me listen to the lullaby.”

Cullen sat silently, enrapt and thankful to her for sharing one more sacred memory with him. A sad little smile passed over her lips as she continued. “I never turned from my mother again…until after Eirlan died. I ran away from everything to be at the Conclave. Left my clan behind, my culture, my parents…” Her voice trailed off before she cleared her throat. “I was so angry. It’s not like I didn’t say goodbye, but I turned my back on everything.”

Her left hand dropped from her hair to her side, out of his view. He could hear the sound of parchment before she lifted it, crossing her arm over her chest to hand it to him. He hadn’t had the chance to look at it before she told him what it said. “Mamae died last week,” she whispered, tears edging their way into the timbre of her voice. A single thick tear fell from her eye.

Cullen wasn’t sure whether Halise would want him to touch her, but he chanced it anyway, unable to let her languish in her sorrow alone. He wrapped an arm around her waist, sliding himself closer to her. He was grateful when he felt her drop her head against his collarbone, the feeling of her breath slow and soft across his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Halise,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I was worried I’d forgotten the song,” she murmured. “I want to be able to sing it to my children someday.”

They hadn’t discussed children before that moment. Cullen struggled for an instant with not having had such an important conversation before something like this. But realizing that what she said meant that she also wanted children, it dawned on him that they no longer needed to have that talk. He felt a bit guilty in his relief, allowing himself to feel it anyway. If they survived, they might have children someday.

He simply replied, “I know they’ll love it.”

“They will.” Halise sighed and rested her hand on his knee. “If they’re ours, they will.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	3. Var Bellanaris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of one-shot taking place during the events of "The Lion by Torchlight," and after "Mir Da'len Somniar." It was meant for Cullavellan Heaven's Cullavellan Week 2016 for the "Sharing Customs" prompt on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead...
> 
> Also, the song included can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EAANKFPchtA).

Cullen had never been to the Exalted Plains before then. The rich grassy golden and green landscape was marred by the recent unrest Halise had traveled down several months before to address. She’d been there for about a week before coming back to prepare for the ball at the Winter Palace. Orlesian ramparts and fortresses were still recovering from civil war and the attacks by demons, the undead, and the Freemen of the Dales. Likewise, Halise was still recovering from Rainier’s flight from and return to the Inquisition—though he believed it would be less of a stain on the Inquisition if everyone continued to call him Blackwall—as well as her mother’s recent death.

After telling him about her mother’s passing, Halise told him that the missive from her clan also said several members would be making a pilgrimage to the Exalted Plains to bury the body. Understandably, she wanted to be there. What he hadn’t fully understood was why she wanted him to come with her. Grieving was an extremely personal process, and he had yet to meet a single member of her clan. And her father would be there. Cullen could think of few more inappropriate circumstances to meet his lover’s father than at the funeral of the man’s own wife. But she insisted he come, so he did.

They reached the plains a day ahead of Clan Lavellan. Halise spent the day and the better part of the night carving something from a large oak branch. Cullen tried to get her to accompany him to sleep in their tent, but she simply turned to him with a look that bespoke her sorrow and exhaustion and murmured, “No…It’s okay. I have to finish this.” Without another word or any attention to Cullen’s protest, she turned away, continuing her whittling in stony silence by the fire.

When he awoke the next morning, Halise still was not beside him, though her bedroll had been undone and still bore a modicum of the warmth of her body upon a graze of his sleepily probing hand. He dressed quietly, his final article of clothing the comfortable red-brown leather coat she had given him for his name day. His eyes landed on her instantly when he opened the flap of their tent. She sat in the same place he’d left her, back turned to him with her head down, rocking back and forth in tiny increments. Her hands were clasped tightly around something in her lap. A staff? It was a bit rough-hewn, but for a piece of woodwork having been done in less than a day, it was well crafted.

Little whispers emanated from her as she rocked. As he padded toward her as quietly as his large body was capable of, the Elvhen became a bit clearer. He didn’t know what it meant, but after his years in the Chantry, he gleaned from the cadence and fervor of her words that it was a prayer. He came around to face her, but seeing that her eyes were fastened shut so hard the rest of her face compacted toward them, he seated himself beside her. He watched her, their legs both crossed before them, resting on the soft grass near the burial grounds. The faint sound of a nearby waterfall echoed under her chants. Her knuckles were white with her grip on the staff, fingernails likely gouging tiny crescents into the wood.

Suddenly, Halise’s hand shot out to grab his. Her eyes were still shut tightly, but her recitative rhythm waivered and wobbled. Her voice cracked and squeaked preceding her first gruff sob. Tears began to fall from her downcast eyes into the gently waving blades of grass beneath them. Her lips trembled against the full display of her anguish, until she let herself fall into it. With a quiet whimper, she began to bawl. Her shoulders slumped over roughly before she folded inward, encasing the staff between her shuddering torso and her neatly folded legs. The long red tendrils of her hair swept and settled in the greenery.

Cullen kept a tight grip on her hand, rounding behind her to kneel and wrap his arm between her waist and the staff. His forehead rested in the back of her hair as he pressed himself against her. He had no idea how long they remained that way before her weeping subsided, though his knees ached against the hard dirt under the flattened grass. Still, he didn’t move until she did, tugging lightly at his hand to encourage him to face her.

Halise’s nose and eyes were tinged with scarlet, and her face bore every sign of complete weariness. Dark circles had seated themselves deeply under her eyes, her ordinarily dusky pink lips now pale and dry. Cullen pulled her gently to him, supporting her when her legs slid out to the side of her so she could rest against his shoulder. They sat like that for some time, Cullen stroking her hair while her breathing calmed.

Not long after Halise regained her composure, a short caravan crested the nearby hills. Silvery halla with delicate twisting horns that resembled Halise’s vallaslin pulled wooden, boat-like houses—aravels, she’d called them. Several men and women traveled on foot, wearing loose tunics belted at their waists, not entirely unlike Halise’s favored attire. Cullen looked at her as she watched them, her face very nearly unreadable save for the hint of fear in her eyes. She stood tall in the breeze, holding the oak staff—though perhaps it was holding her.

From around the back of one of the aravels appeared a tall, read-headed man. The closer the clan got, the more unmistakable the man’s features grew. His mouth was the same shape as hers, his eyes the same fluorescent green. The front of his hair was tied back neatly, but the shoulder-length locks held the same loose curl as hers. His vallaslin were different, like the plentiful branches of a tree over his forehead and along his cheekbones. This was her father.

When they had drawn close enough, a small smile curled her father’s lips. Halise’s body loosened with a heavy sob of relief before she ran to him. They locked in an embrace, swaying back and forth with the momentum of their affections. Cullen was nervous, but more than that, he was grateful that Halise’s father had welcomed her so warmly. He didn’t perceive what she’d done as abandonment. He didn’t bear a grudge against her for her work as Inquisitor.

She held her father’s hand, walking him back over to where Cullen stood. He stiffened at their approach, unsure of what to do beyond how to greet him according to Halise. “Baba,” she began softly, looking from her father to him, “this is Commander Cullen Rutherford.” Then, looking from him to her father, she said, “Cullen, this is my father, Revassan.”

“Andaran atish’an,” Cullen replied stiffly, instinctively holding out his open hand. Revassan stared at him for a moment before slowly reaching out to clasp his forearm in greeting, sending a shockwave of tentative relief through Cullen’s body.

“Andaran atish’an, Commander Cullen Rutherford,” Revassan said. “I should thank you for your diligence in protecting my daughter for all of these months.” He crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head in a way so similar to Halise it was jarring. Up close, the ring in his green eyes was visible, though it was not yellow like hers, but icy blue.

“I must confess, she has done most of the protecting herself. Your daughter is extremely skilled on the battlefield.” Cullen could feel the sweat building in his palms before he mirrored Revassan’s crossed arms, trying to keep a bit looser to avoid seeming closed off.

At that her father smiled softly, looking at her and placing his hand on her shoulder. “Her clan has taught her well. We are very proud of her and the strides she has made for the Dalish with the shem.”

“I can assure you, sir, we are all very proud of her,” Cullen replied with a smile of his own, trying to be respectful in the only way he knew.

“I thank you for escorting her for this, but we must take our leave. My falon’saota must be laid to rest before nightfall. I assure you, she is in good hands with her family.” Revassan turned to leave, his hand still on Halise’s shoulder, pulling her to go with him.

Her brow creased. She pulled back toward Cullen. “No. Baba, wait. I need Cullen to come with me.”

“Halise, you are well protected with us. Your Commander can stay out here while we complete the burial ceremony. This is sacred ground.” He was trying to remain patient, but irritation touched his voice.

“Baba, you don’t understand. Is mir vhenan, Baba. Cullen mir vhenan. Ar lath ish,” she said determinedly. Cullen understood “vhenan,” and “lath.” She was telling her father about them.

“What?” Revassan asked. He didn’t seem angry, just confused. “Ma lath ish?”

“Yes, Baba.” She stepped over to Cullen, lacing her fingers with his before looking back at her father hopefully.

Revassan’s face bore a pensive expression. Cullen clutched at Halise’s hand as if holding on in the face of an immense tidal wave, afraid he would be swept away from her forever in that moment. She held fast under her father’s unyielding gaze.

“Are you certain?” he finally asked, face unchanged.

“Yes.”

“And you, Commander? What are your feelings for Halise?”

Cullen’s stomach twisted under the fear of improperly conveying his love to Revassan. He decided simply to say what was in his heart and hope that it would be enough. “I love Halise more than anything or anyone in the world. She is the air in my lungs. I would lay down my life before causing her even an ounce of sorrow, and I would not survive without her. She is my vhenan.” His tone was firm, despite the tumult within him.

Revassan eyed him critically, as if attempting to drill into the depths of his soul. This stare apparently lasted too long for Halise. “Baba…” she murmured, pleading with her father to answer with his blessings.

Finally, he spoke. “Alright,” he said. “If you two truly love each other as you say, and make each other whole and happy, you have my blessing.”

Halise sighed heavily before rushing back over to her father to pull him into a tight embrace, weeping gratitude into his neck. Revassan beckoned to Cullen before they began their walk into the burial grounds. The clan allowed Cullen to assist in digging Halise’s mother’s grave, and the work was done faster for it.

Two men, Revassan, and Halise removed her mother’s body from one of the aravels. Even in death, she was lovely. Her silver hair was braided over her shoulder, and a small smile seemed to tug at her lips. Her vallaslin was a reddish arrow that extended from her chin, over her mouth and up to her hair line. Tears fell quietly from Halise and Revassan’s eyes as they carried her into her grave. They set her down into the damp, shaded earth reverently. Revassan placed a final kiss onto his wife’s forehead before they stepped out of the hole.

Halise placed the staff she had carved alongside her mother, as did her father. Then she set a small cedar branch under her mother’s hands.

“Ar lath ma, Dianisamahl,” Revassan murmured. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Tears still streaming down her face and clutching her father’s hand as well as Cullen’s, Halise began to sing softly.

 

_Hahren na melana sahlin_

_Emma ir abelas_

_Souver'inan isala hamin_

_Vhenan him dor'felas_

_In uthenera na revas_

_Vir sulahn'nehn_

_Vir dirthera_

_Vir samahl la numin_

_Vir lath sa'vunin_

 

“Ar lath ma, Mamae,” she whispered after completing the song.

When Dianisamahl’s body was buried, seeds were pushed into the dirt over her. “Felgara da’adahl,” Revassan said, holding his palm flat against the soil. He and Halise shared one more tearful embrace before everyone turned to leave the burial grounds.

Their meal together that evening began somberly, but evolved into an unexpectedly laughter-filled occasion. Everyone shared stories of Dianisamahl’s laugh and beautiful voice and love for her daughters. Halise seemed to relax in the company of her kin, even under the worst circumstances. Cullen appreciated the warm embrace and graciousness he’d been offered by her clansmen, suddenly understanding how she became the woman that he loved with his entire being.

When they finally crawled into bed after the heart-wrenching day, Halise curled up against him. She wasn’t her ordinary joyous self, but neither was she filled with the same sorrow he had seen that morning. This had helped her, and Cullen had been there for her, just as he had sworn.

“Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she cooed sleepily into his neck.

“Ar lath ma,” he repeated. He did. With every breath left in his body for all his life, however long, he did.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	4. All Soul's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a (very) little one-off I did for Sloth-Race (Sloth_Race on AO3) on tumblr when they were kind enough to give me a prompt on a day I was feeling kinda off. 
> 
> "Cullen begrudgingly wearing a Halloween costume"

“Come out, would you?” Halise asked plaintively from the other side of the privacy screen. “I won’t laugh! Well…unless it’s funny. Then I’m going to laugh.”

“You are not helping,” Cullen replied. This was a silly and pointless exercise. He hadn’t worn a costume for All Soul’s Day since he was a boy, and even then he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Why pretend to be someone you’re not? Or, more aptly for his current predicament, something you’re not? It was the kind of escapism that let monsters hide in plain sight, disguised as other monsters, or even worse, as people. It was harder for him to let his guard down like that. Everyone in the throng was capable of acting on their dislike for or anger toward him or Halise with little fear of justice.

Even with his trepidation and distaste for the practice, Halise had just about begged him to participate, and his powers of resistance against her pleas were remarkably weak. She told him they would be in matching costumes, but refused to tell him what his would be. She wanted it to be a surprise. And he hated Void-damned surprises.

“Pleeeeaaase! Pretty please come out!” Halise had obviously over-sweetened her tone to get him out, and he would. But after finding out what his costume was, he would almost have preferred to go into the ball naked. After all, most of their friends had already seen it anyway after that game of Wicked Grace.

When Halise started whining incomprehensibly, he finally decided to come out. _To the Void with it,_ he thought. _If it makes her happy, I’ll just bear it._ He cringed at that last thought as he moved from behind the screen.

Halise’s eyes went wide at the sight of him, or he thought they did at least. She was dressed in full Avvar armor, including the face paint, which made her expression uncharacteristically difficult to read. She clenched her fists in front of her chest so hard he could hear her leather gloves squeak, and inhaled hard before letting out a strange, strangled groan. After heaving out a second audibly shaky breath, she barely managed to choke out, “Amazing. It’s perfect. You look just like her.” The last words caught in her throat, scarcely reaching Cullen’s ears. She was struggling not to laugh. Poorly.

Cullen leaned into her reaction, rolling his shoulders and lifting his arms in a big roar. The marked bear pelt hung strangely on him, and he hadn’t really wanted her to laugh until he came out and saw how hard she was trying not to for his sake. So he roared, sending her toppling over, hunched with her hands on her knees, laughing so hard her whole body shook. The sound of her glee even managed to bring a small laugh up from his chest.

“Oh,” she gasped, holding her stomach as she stood again, little tremors of laughter still rolling through her. “Oh, Cullen. It’s so perfect!” Her wide white teeth showed through her painted lips in a massive grin.

“Careful,” he warned, walking toward her with something entirely different on his mind after the sight of her, “I may take your laughter as a sign of hostility and maul you.”

Halise’s eyes widened again, and the marks painted on her face curved when she chewed on the inside of her lip. “Oh I wish you would,” she murmured, pulling him closer before undoubtedly transferring some of her facepaint onto his lips with a searing kiss.

_Worth it._

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally written for an anonymous request on my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) for the "Public Sex" NSFW prompt.
> 
> So...yeah...nsfw.

Cullen eyed Halise from across the tavern as she leaned over the bar to snatch a mug from behind the counter before Cabot could whirl around to catch her. Her legs were uncharacteristically bare for being outside of her or Cullen’s quarters, but the dress was compulsory. She’d complained to him earlier that day about Vivienne and Josephine’s insistence that she put her hair up and wear a frock in light of the arrival of several nobles to celebrate their defeat of Corypheus. It wasn’t that Halise didn’t like dresses, she’d said, just that she was unaccustomed to them. Especially dresses as short at this one.

It was a rich, deep purple thing with long sleeves and a modest neckline in the front. But in the back—Maker in the back—a deep V was cut from the fabric, revealing not only the curves of Halise’s dark green swirling vallaslin, but the curves of her spine and shoulders as well—both in stark contrast to the mass of red curls she’d so carefully knotted atop her head, though little tendrils still fell loose around her shoulders. The material flowed out delicately from her hips to just above her knees, a fact she clearly hadn’t considered as she bent over the bar in the Herald’s Rest.

The cloth of the dress crept up and up and up her thighs, coming dangerously close to the point at which they came together. The sight of her like that set Cullen’s blood aflame. Her skin so tantalizingly bare, so teasingly lit in the soft glow of the fireplace, and so soft. His cock twitched and swelled in his breeches, his longing to feel her bare flesh against his overpowering his concerns for decency in that moment.

When she’d finally managed to reach the mug she was grabbing at and stand up straight, Cullen felt his breath sawing hotly through his chest with want. She turned, beginning her short walk back to him, stopping only to drop the mug off at an overcrowded table full of soldiers in the packed tavern. Halise beamed her warm smile at the soldiers, who toasted her raucously as she left their table, turning her radiant gaze back to Cullen.

The moment she reached him, Cullen grabbed her up by the small of her back, pulling a little gasp from her throat. Feeling the patch of bared skin between the fabric there, his body almost vibrated with his overwhelming desire. Halise looked into his eyes, only inches from his face. They must have told her everything, because her next breath left her shakily.

Without a word between them, Cullen began to usher her out of the tavern, his hand still pressed firmly against the curves of her spine. He could feel one of her little dimples with his fingertips, and took a moment to swirl them into her. He watched her face as his fingers teased at her covered skin, deeply satisfied when her fluorescent green eyes darkened. She chewed on the inside of her plush, dusky pink lips, stretching the dark green vallaslin on her chin with the little movement.

Cullen needed to feel her mouth, and rather brazenly reached up to run the pad of his thumb across it. He stopped in the middle of her parted lips, feeling the wet heat of her breath on his calloused skin as they continued their journey toward the door. Without warning, Halise opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue over his thumb so slowly it almost hurt. His cock jerked again in his breeches, the strain of his erection becoming unbearable. Halise let her lip drag up Cullen’s thumb before drawing it into her mouth. She closed her teeth over it first, raking them down his rough skin and past his knuckle before sealing her lips over him. Cullen hissed out a breath while she swirled her tongue around and around and sucked.

His patience for their slow walk out shattered. He almost shoved her out the door of the tavern, and when Halise made for the stone steps leading up to the battlements, Cullen rushed her, backing her into the dark corner and pinning her against the stone wall of the tavern with a little grunt. Her eyes bored almost defiantly into his as he pressed his body against hers. The heat of her gaze pushed his lust even further, and he grabbed her hand in his, bringing her palm flat against the manifestation of his desire. Halise inhaled a trembling breath before tightening her fingers around the silhouette of his cock and running them slowly—too slowly—up and down the length of him with a smirk on her lips.

It felt silly to think how much he loved her in that moment as she teased him, but Maker was it the truth. Incensed, Cullen growled, grabbing Halise’s face and nearly slamming their lips together in a scorching kiss. She opened her mouth to him, darting her tongue into his, then running it up his scar, sending a hard shiver down his spine. Cullen released her face, choosing instead to grasp and knead and claw at her ass. Halise started to moan, but he captured her mouth with his, trapping the sound in his own throat before she could alert anyone to their illicit activities.

Cullen dragged his lips from her mouth to her throat, pulling her as flush to him as he could until she wrapped her leg around his hip. He lifted Halise just enough for her other leg to ensnare him, the heat of her core pressing against his aching hardness as her skirt rucked up around her hips and dangled loosely behind her. She laced her fingers into the back of his hair, panting against his ear as he licked and sucked and bit at her sensitive neck and squeezed her supple ass.

With the hand not clutching at Cullen’s hair, Halise slid between them, deftly unlacing his breeches and freeing his cock. He felt her dampness through her smallclothes and thrust his length against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her muscles clenched so hard that her thighs trembled around his hips.

“Fuck me,” she rasped into his ear, ignoring the sounds of people leaving the tavern door just feet away. “I need you inside me.”

No further insistence was necessary. Cullen moved his fingers toward her core, simply sliding her smallclothes to the side before sheathing himself within her to the hilt. She gasped loudly, halting some of the voices just outside of the tavern door. They both stilled, waiting for the conversation to begin anew. When the sounds of people swelled again, Cullen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

“You’d better stay quiet,” he growled, teasing Halise’s lips with a passing brush of his own. “Unless you want them to see you getting fucked senseless by your Commander, Inquisitor.” He used her title to unnerve her, to pique her.

It worked. She used the hand in his hair to force his mouth against hers, nipping at his lower lip as he pushed into her as deeply as he could. Halise groaned into his mouth at the sensation, and he pulled his lips from hers as if to warn her. Her head fell into the crook of Cullen’s neck, heavy pants and little squeaks of pleasure catching against his skin as he fucked her. The tiny lightning in her right hand popped against his scalp, pushing him harder and faster into her. When the panting ceased, Cullen knew she was close to the edge. He bit down hard on her neck and hilted himself into her slick heat, sending her spilling into orgasm. She bit his shoulder to keep the sounds of her pleasure from escaping. Her teeth, coupled with the sensation of her clenching around him pushed him past the brink. Hot breaths shuddered loudly out of his nose, every ounce of his self-control in use to keep him quiet as he spilled into her, thrusting only a few more times before he was completely spent.

They stayed like that for Maker knew how long, suspended in the flaming effigy of their release as though they were sculpted from the same stone as the wall, moving only to pepper each other with languid kisses in the dark corner. When Cullen finally extricated himself from her and set her down, Halise pressed one more firm kiss to his lips. They righted their clothing quickly, and she finally let out a little laugh.

“It’s a great dress, isn’t it?” she grinned, bringing up a chuckle from deep in Cullen’s chest.

He leaned in to kiss her once again, replying against her lips, “Not at great as the woman wearing it, my love.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments/con-crit are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Come on over to my [tumblr](kaoruyogi.tumblr.com) and talk it up with me if you'd like!


	6. Prompt – Face-fucking at the Winter Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

“Maker’s breath, Halise, this is a closet!” Cullen whisper-shouted at her.

“Biggest closet _I’ve_ ever seen,” Halise answered with a wide grin.

He realized she wasn’t entirely wrong. The room was bigger than the tent he’d been sleeping in outside of Haven, after all. Perhaps it simply looked miniscule with all the paintings and random furniture crowding it. Halise’s dress probably wasn’t helping, though she did look absolutely breathtaking—shoulders bare and a deep void in the golden corset that exposed more of her breasts than he wanted others seeing. Flowing, shimmering blue fabric pooled around her as she sank to the floor in front of him.

Before he even realized what was happening, her hands were on his breeches, fingers loosening the laces with shocking speed. “Wait,” he murmured, lifting her gaze to his with the knuckle of his index finger. “What are you—”

“This night has been awful for you,” she interrupted, chewing on the inside of her red-stained lip for a fleeting instant. “And I do _not_ like how these Orlesians are…groping you. That’s my job, and mine alone.” She smirked a bit, sliding her hands up his legs slowly. “I just want to taste you, and I can’t very well go leaving this red all over your face.” A thumb slipped across her lips, into her mouth, and came out stained.

Her palm rubbed across his rapidly hardening cock, a self-satisfied look creeping across her face. That look just wouldn’t do. Cullen let her finish unlacing his breeches, tangling his hand into her long red curls. Thank the Maker Josephine and Leliana had let her wear them mostly down.

Large, fluorescent green eyes stared up at him as red lips wrapped around his cock. She moved slowly at first, tongue tracing every vein and curve of him. Her breasts were heaving so enticingly under the tight corset, pushing out until he thought the dress would simply burst off of her. But it didn’t. It never did. She remained covered there, mouth still sliding too slowly up and down his length. She was doing this on purpose.

Without thinking, Cullen thrust into her wet, hot mouth. The head of his erection slipped right past her tongue and into the void of her open throat. Halise gasped, and may have gagged a little, but her hand clenched at his backside, urging him forward again. Tentatively he drove into her a second time, pleased at the glistening, red-tinged appearance of his cock as he pulled it back out again.

Halise looked up at him again, giving a little nod of approval. He took that as permission to stay the course. With a slow rhythm at first, he thrust into her mouth, tapping the back of her throat with each motion. His paced matched his heartbeat, the two quickening in time with one another. He hadn’t noticed her fingers disappearing under her dress until his pace had become harried and uneven, but he could tell when she came. She hummed out loudly, the vibration sending an electric jolt up his spine—though that may also have been the tiny sparks from her right hand.

It didn’t take much longer for Cullen to meet his end. The sounds coming out of her, more than the sensation of her, pushed him over. He thrust into her mouth clumsily twice more before coming with a growl. He held Halise’s head down around the base of his cock while his seed spilled out into her, letting her go only after the last wave had crested and passed.

She swallowed his essence down with one heavy motion, eyes lidded and breaths jagged and raw. Her head fell back to look up at him.

“I don’t know about you,” she panted, “but _I_ certainly feel better.”

*****


	7. Prompt – Inquisitor’s throne, nipple play, face riding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

“I don’t know that I’m entirely comfortable with this idea,” Halise muttered, worry creeping into her low voice. She sat astride Cullen’s chest, bare from the waist down behind the Inquisition throne.

He lay looking up at her with love, lust, and exhaustion all vying for power in his eyes. “Why, my love?” he asked sincerely. “There is next to no one in Skyhold. Everyone’s gone or asleep in the far-flung guest quarters.” His hand gently caressed her backside, giving it a squeeze now and then and bringing a smile up her lips.

“I’m going to suffocate you,” she replied plaintively.

Cullen chuckled. “You really won’t.” He spanked her lightly before letting his hands wander between their bodies. How could she think with his hand so gently massaging her sex?

“You’re sure?” she asked a final time.

He rubbed her a little harder, causing her to tense and shudder with a moan. “Very.” His voice was a heady rumble, jostling every ounce of sense right out of Halise’s head.

“Alright,” she murmured.

Slowly, she crept forward on her knees until her core hovered over Cullen’s mouth. He grabbed her waist, pulling her down against his open lips. She tried not to let too much weight rest on his face, but was immediately distracted by his tongue against her clit and the sound of his groans beneath her. Tentatively, she rocked forward.

The sensation was remarkable. He continued the slow strokes of his tongue as his hands wandered up under her nightshirt. Halise rocked again, firmer this time, wresting low sounds from both of them. Cullen’s fingers found her nipples, grazing them ever so lightly with the rasp of his calloused warrior’s fingertips. They pearled under his touch, and her back arched unconsciously. Her hands rested on his powerful chest, her long hair brushing all the bare flesh there.

Gradually, she became more comfortable with what they were doing, letting the sensations of pleasure fill her. She undulated faster against her husband’s mouth, delighting in the sounds he made when she did. His tongue, teeth, and lips kept chiseling away at her self-control, aided by the rough pinches and gentle soothing rolls of her nipples between his fingers.

It wasn’t long before Halise gave up on whatever was holding her back, riding Cullen’s mouth to chase her pleasure. She mewled and sighed as it built and built. He could obviously tell, because one of his hands gripped her ass, pushing her harder against him. Her breath caught in her chest just before the final wave overtook her. She came loudly and completely uninhibited. Unable to continue, she was thrilled that Cullen worked her to her utter undoing.

Breathing hard, and all at once remembering her fear of suffocating Cullen, she rolled off to the side of him and onto the cool stone floor. When she turned to look at him, a wide grin was spread over his glistening lips, still wet with her arousal. He propped himself up on his elbow, still beaming at her.

“What?” Halise asked, playfully slapping his chest. He just kept smiling that damn smile, curving that damn scar. “Fine,” she conceded. “Thanks for _making me_ do that.” A sly smile that she just couldn’t hold back was slipping up her lips.

“My love,” he said, sounding a bit too smug for her liking, “you and I both know I could never _make_ you do anything.”

“Fuck you,” she laughed.

“I believe you just did.”

*****


	8. Prompt – Cave, mutual masturbation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

“This cave is a bit…exposed, don’t you think?” Cullen’s voice was riddled with trepidation, an emotion that Halise was dead set on ridding him of.

Her hand slipped under the furs Thane Svarah Sun-Hair had been so kind as to provide them. The Frostbacks were indeed chilly that time of year. “Nonsense,” she said dismissively, palm gliding lower and lower against Cullen’s magnificent abdominal muscles. “There’s a door.”

They both paused to look at the rickety, gap-ridden “door.” “That ‘door’ wouldn’t hold up against a stiff breeze,” he scoffed.

Conveniently, Halise’s hand reached its goal. “Speaking of stiff,” she purred suggestively, lacing her fingers around his cock. It was halfway to where she wanted it, slowly filling with blood as she gently and slowly stroked it to life. His flesh felt velvety and malleable against her touch.

Cullen’s head dropped back against their goose-down pillows with a groan. Halise drew his earlobe between her teeth, licking and nibbling gently as he reached full-staff. His hand wrapped around hers, guiding her movements with precision. He let her go, humming and sighing under the pressure she hoped she was building within him.

She was more than a bit surprised when she felt his fingers walking across her stomach toward her sex. He grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg over his—opening her to him. His rough fingers brushed against her before grinding against her sensitive bundle of nerves. She let out a high-pitched sort of grunt, eliciting a chuckle from Cullen.

Her next strokes were almost retaliatory. Halise caressed Cullen’s length from bottom to top, twisting a bit near the head. She used her thumb to put a gentle pressure on the underside where the shaft and the head met. He turned to look her in the eye, and she met his gaze defiantly, determined not to be the first to give up. What she was or was not giving up, however, wasn’t entirely clear in that moment.

Cullen’s fingers picked up speed, tugging more than a bit at her resolve not to just jump on top of him and ride their pleasure out together. He paused, rumbling out a carnal sound before slipping a digit into her slick heat. She whimpered. Damn him. His finger hooked inside of her, caressing the soft, hypersensitive spot there. Her hand stalled for the barest moment, and she could have sworn that he laughed again. Oh, no he didn’t.

She was going to make him howl so loud the entire hold would hear him. It would echo off the inside of the cave and fly out of the so-called “door,” and everyone would hear what she was capable of doing to him. Her biggest problem was that he knew every toggle to push and flip. Cullen’s fingers slipped back out of her, his whole, wet hand cupping and massaging her sex. Halise worked faster, reaching her unoccupied hand out to tend to his sac. She squeezed tenderly, watching with delight as his eyes rolled back for even the briefest moment.

But he was the picture of perseverance—never one to be bested in battle. His diligent fingers returned to her clit, pressing and fondling in the exact way she knew _he_ knew would make her lose. She all but gave up caring as heat coiled up within her. The battle was nearly over for her. But she would be damned if she wasn’t taking him over with her. They were both breathing out primal, guttural noises and murmuring each other’s names. Just as she’d become certain she would come first, she felt his sac shrink a bit in her hand.

Cullen pushed his head back into his pillow hard, every gorgeous muscle on his body taught and ready. As Halise’s body flew out of her control with her powerful orgasm, Cullen roared out loudly, seed shooting onto his stomach and dripping down onto her fingers. Their loud cries mingled in the air, bouncing off the cave walls as Halise had predicted.

Their breathing slowed as they came down from their mutual high. Unfortunately, it was just in time to hear the cacophony of whoops and cheers outside of their “door.” Sera’s voice rang out loudest and nearest to the entrance.

“You do her right, Commander Fuzzy Shoulders!!!”

*****


	9. Prompt – Winter Palace, doggy style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

Halise giggled like a fool, dragging a begrudging Cullen through the should-have-been-cordoned-off halls of the Winter Palace. She’d had to deal with a whole lot of nugshit as the night had worn on. He would be the first to admit it. But that didn’t mean they could just traipse off as the drinks and dancing fell into full swing. Josephine would have his head if she found out.

But any protest he might have offered died when turned to him, a beaming smile over her red lips before she tugged her to him. She kissed him fervently, her tongue darting out to part his lips without provocation. Their tongues danced together in the way their bodies might have if she’s allowed them to stay in the ballroom. This was better. His hands wandered over her tightly cinched waist, trapped in the golden corset that forced her pale breasts up against his uniformed chest.

Halise stepped back, leaving him wanting more. Cullen followed her more than willingly then, slipping behind her into an open door—well, a door that she had opened. The room was remarkably sparsely furnished. Only a chaise and a couple of tables populated the space. Halise very nearly skipped over to one of the tables, rich blue gossamer flowing like water around her as she moved. She leaned forward over the table, tracing the design and murmuring something about wishing she could make something like that.

Cullen stepped up behind her, encircling her waist once more. She stood, leaning back against him as he swept her long fiery curls away from her neck. He ran his tongue along the blade of her ear, her head dropping back against his shoulder with a little whine. Nipping a trail down her ear and neck, he slipped his right hand under the bodice of her dress, taking Halise’s left breast in a glorious handful. She moaned louder, pressing her backside against his growing stiffness as he squeezed.

Any resoluteness he may have developed that might have stopped him from taking her then and there vanished when she reached back and threaded her fingers into his hair. With a guttural sound he barely recognized as his own, Cullen withdrew his hand from her dress, much to her very vocal disappointment. Slowly, he manipulated her body, leaning her back over the table with her hands flat.

It took a moment for him to dig her out from under the layers of flowing fabric, but he found her core eventually. He ran his fingers from her clit to her already went entrance, drawing another whimper out of her. Unlacing his breeches and freeing his cock, he wiped the slickness of her arousal over himself with one long stroke. He entered her slowly, both of them hissing in a breath in unison.

Halise’s body was so enticing, trapped as it was in the prison Josephine called a dress. Cullen’s hand found her waist again, holding Halise steady as he began to thrust into her heat. A dozen tiny sounds escaped her throat when he quickened his pace, and her hair fell over her shoulders, exposing the bare swath of flesh at her back. Her dark green vallaslin twisted and curled from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, and he longed to kiss her there. He leaned down, resting his chest on her back and holding her hips in place with his whole arm. His lips found her skin, pressing passionate kisses there—raking his teeth down her spine. She shivered and shuddered with every touch.

Cullen’s pleasure mounted, and she repositioned herself, one hand disappearing somewhere under her skirt. Her moans grew louder with each thrust, and Cullen felt himself nearing his climax. Halise arched her back, letting Cullen’s mouth reach the crook of her neck. He bit down just as she held in a breath, sending her tumbling into her undoing with a ragged keen. She clenched around him, bringing him into the abyss with her. A long, uneven growl accompanied his release and his final few thrusts.

He let his forehead drop onto Halise’s back, both of them drinking in the air in rough gulps. He kissed her swirling vallaslin again, wondering how someone so lovely and graceful had found her way into his arms. And thanking the Maker that she had.

*****


	10. Prompt – “I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

“Cullen!” His attention was drawn from the stack of reports in front of him by the sound of a faraway voice outside his office. He eyed the door suspiciously, waiting to see if he’d imagined it.

“CULLEN!” The voice was louder, distinctly female.

“CULL—Ack!” The door nearest to the rotunda was nearly battered off its hinges when a blurred ball of red curls and blue clothes slammed through it.

Halise spilled through the doorway with a little shriek, her loose azure tunic catching on something on the door—a splinter, perhaps?—and sending her slipping and tumbling to the stone floor. Her backside caught the brunt of her fall, but Cullen practically leapt over his desk to see if she was alright. Only the sound of her rolling laughter stopped him, smack in the center of the room with a surprised grin stuck to his face. Her tunic had rolled up past her ribcage, exposing part of her off-white breastband and leaving her right arm trapped and dangling against the door.

Cullen finished his walk toward her a little slower than he’d begun, a chuckle pushing its way out of his chest at the sight of his fiancé wriggling against his door. When he reached her, he just crossed his arms, staring down at her and shaking his head. The smirk on his lips was indelible.

“Don’t just stand there, help me!” she giggled at him.

“You must have been very excited to see me,” he replied, bending to examine the mess she’d gotten herself into.

As he helped untangle Halise from the trappings of his terribly devious door, she explained her reasons for bursting in. “I just got done talking to Josie about some of the wedding details.”

Cullen sighed, “What horrible thing has she asked you to ask me to do now?”

Finally able to stand, she stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s romantic!!! She wants us to take dance lessons!”

“That is not romantic,” he scoffed. “I’d rather walk through the Hissing Wastes barefoot.”

Halise scrunched her lips up on the left side of her face. “You’re going to be mad at what I say next, then.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I didn’t think you could get any less romantic…”

“The dance teacher Josie wants us to work with is—um—how do I put this? He’s…” Halise chewed on the inside of her lip pensively.

“Maker’s breath, Halise, spit it out.” He hadn’t even realized he’d crossed his arms over his chest.

She looked up at him from under her dark lashes, a pleading little smile creeping up to match the furrow of her brow. “He’s Orlesian.”

“No.”

*****


	11. Prompt – “You smell like a wet dog.”

Rain was a rare occurrence at Skyhold. It was so high in the mountains that if there was any kind of precipitation, it came in the form of snow. But Halise loved the rain—on the distinct condition that she had a place to retreat from it. So when a nearly instant downpour surprised everyone at Skyhold, all she could do was have a little laugh and head into the main hall from the gardens.

Nearly everyone present at the fortress had crowded into the room faster than she could shake the raindrops from her curly mop of hair, some much wetter than others. She scanned the incoming crowd, looking for her friends in the midst of the throng of nobility pouring into the main doors. When she spied a very perturbed Dorian, she made her way over, grinning at the mess the rain had made of his hair.

As if he read her mind, he held a finger out in front of him, closing his eyes in a further display of his irritation. “Not a word from you.”

Halise pressed her lips together, hiding the smile creeping up her lips rather poorly. At that moment, a flash of red and silver near the front door caught her eye. Cullen had just gotten in, presumably from the training grounds where he’d been working with his recruits. His rapidly curling hair and his lion’s mane coat were both soaked, water dripping beautifully from his sculpted nose and chin onto the floor. When he saw Halise, his firm expression shifted—softened.

He made his way to her through the pack of nobles whining about how their silk clothing was “absolutely ruined” by a couple of raindrops. They hadn’t experienced nearly as much of the downpour as Cullen so obviously had. The second he reached Halise and Dorian, the mage clapped a hand over his mouth and nose. Cullen and Halise both shot him a quizzical look, comingling with just a bit of shock.

“Maferath’s balls, Cullen!” Dorian shouted, his agitated voice muffled by his palm. “You smell like a wet dog!”

Halise and Cullen shared a look of amusement, though his irritation still showed through the clench of his jaw. Without a word of warning, he shook his head vigorously, sending copious amounts of water flying from his golden curls in every direction and splattering all over Dorian’s horrified face.

Dorian sputtered in his dismay. “Must you always be so _Ferelden_ , Commander?!” he demanded.

Cullen smirked, curling that damn attractive scar of his. “As a matter of fact, _Tevinter_ , yes I must.”

*****


	12. Prompt – “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

Halise groaned sleepily, the feeling of Cullen’s rough fingers creeping up her hip stirring her from her slumber. They’d only just returned from the Frostback Basin and he’d proposed only a couple of nights before. But he’d been insatiable since then—though, to be fair, so had she.

But with only the slightest crack of her eyelids, she could tell it was still dark out. She reached down, lifting Cullen’s hand away from her and dropping it back against his body with a languid chuckle. She was already drifting off again when she felt the same fingers brush her hair behind her pointed ear. His lips delicately caressed her earlobe, sending a wicked shiver down her spine.

It was all she could do _not_ to answer the lustful call of his touch. Halise shrugged her shoulder with a grumble, skimming across his jaw and her ear. Cullen pulled back, but let his hand linger on her waist. She rolled over to face him, looking into the amber eyes that somehow managed to be lustful and adorable all at once. “We haven’t slept in days,” she muttered, dropping her head against his chest. “And if you keep doing that, I’m going to have to banish you from this bed so the circles under my eyes don’t get as dark as the ones under yours.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!” he retorted with a snort into her hair.

She smiled against his bare chest. “I can and I will. Banishment. So sayeth the Inquisitor.”

The sensation of his jaw flexing with a grin forced a laugh to puff out of her. “Very well then, Inquisitor,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll sleep tonight.” Halise shifted against him, shutting her eyes while she fell asleep again. Just before she drifted back into the Fade, he added, “But I make no guarantees about the morning.”

*****


	13. Prompt – “Did you just hiss at me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Dorian and Sera friendship drabble!

Dorian stared at Sera as she pounded back her fourth ale of the evening. Trips to the tavern had truly become much less…varied since Halise had taken up with Cullen. They would return from their outings and she would give everyone a brief hug before running up to his tower or her quarters and vanishing for the rest of the evening. This left Dorian in the company of the rest of her motley crew—mostly Sera, Iron Bull, and Blackwall.

And Andraste be damned if those three couldn’t drink. Well, Iron Bull and Blackwall could hold their liquor. Sera mostly drank until she went unconscious—usually about five and a half ales in. Dorian sipped at his second glass of West Hill Brandy, watching his raucous companions get even more raucous with every gulp. Blackwall swung his mug around and regaled the table with tales of old battles while Iron Bull tried to top him at every turn and Sera kept calling everyone “tits.”

But Dorian intervened when she ordered her fifth ale. He wasn’t entirely certain why, but he preferred her conscious that evening. “Perhaps you should slow down a bit before you end up under the table again, Sera,” he chided as the barmaid walked away, hips swaying in a way that most certainly earned her better tips.

“What? Piss off, Mister Mustache,” she slurred, sputtering out a chortle at the sound of her own voice. “Not going anywhere, ‘specially not under the table. Pfft!” She laughed again.

She was not quite so amused when Dorian tugged the mug from in front of her just as the swishy barmaid set it down. “EY!” She shouted, grabbing at the cup even as Dorian held it over his head. She paused for a moment and he became a bit uneasy watching her drunken mind work.

With a loud shout, Sera leapt up from her chair, jumped up onto Dorian’s lap and _climbed_ him to get her drink back. Both of them made a number of very undignified sounds in the struggle until she snatched the mug from his hand, clamoring to the ground in a pile. Somehow she managed not to spill.

“Psssssst!!!” she spat, making a claw of her hand as she crouched on the floor.

Dorian was so taken aback his hand flew to his chest dramatically. “Did you just hiss at me?!”

“Damn right, Frilly!” She downed a massive chug of her ale, throwing up two fingers at him in a rude gesture.

“Fine. I am not dragging you up those stairs to your room tonight.”

She chortled once more before melting onto the floor in a snoring heap. _Serves her right,_ he thought. Right up until he picked her up over his shoulder and carried her back to her bed. _Vishante kaffas_. He really was too fond of her.

*****


	14. Prompt – “Oh honey, I’d never be jealous of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little look into the events just after the ball at the Winter Palace.

Halise walked through the Ghislain estate toward Vivienne’s quarters, her shoes tapping against the marble floors with every step. She was exhausted after their evening at the Winter Palace, but they’d only just arrived, and Vivienne had been kind enough to invite them to stay with her. Halise felt obligated to thank her personally.

Their relationship was amicable to be sure, she might even go so far as to call Vivienne her friend on a good day. But it made her no less uncomfortable feeling beholden to one of the most powerful connections the Inquisition had—both monetarily and magically.

She knocked lightly on Vivienne’s door, pleased and relieved when the mage’s velvety voice purred, “Entrer,” from the other side. Halise crept through the door, her voluminous blue ballgown rustling against the frame. Vivienne met her with a smooth smile.

“Hi, Viv,” the redhead greeted, taking a seat in one of several chairs in the large bedroom. Her corset held her posture up stark straight, if a bit uncomfortable. “I just wanted to stop by and thank you for inviting us to stay at your home for the night. It means a lot not to have to stay at the Winter Palace after all…that.” She gestured flippantly with a wave of her hand.

“It is no trouble at all, my dear,” the statuesque woman cooed smoothly. “I must admit, I am happy to be back at home in civilization, however short our stay may be. Though I’ll vehemently deny my homesickness if you share that with anyone outside of this room.” The two women shared a sly smile.

Halise hooked her pinky at Vivienne. “I promise I won’t say anything.” She paused for a moment, considering how she wanted to ask her next question. “How have you dealt with this…aggressive group of people for your whole life?”

Vivienne laughed lightly. “I suppose I’m just given to the right temperament. I learned from a young age that it is vital to have the right people on your side, and I was willing to do whatever it took to ensure that happened.”

A slow nod bobbed Halise’s head. “But the women in there tonight—and some of the men, if I’m honest—were so poorly behaved around Cullen and I. The people here seem so taken with jealousy.”

“Oh my dear, I’d never be jealous of you,” Vivienne said. Halise chewed on the inside of her lip, brow furrowed at her friend’s comment. “That sounded a bit different than I’d mean it to,” she admitted. “I must be truly exhausted. My sincerest apologies for that. What I meant to say is that I am not so similarly afflicted with jealousy as some of my counterparts in the court. You are fully entitled to your happiness, as am I, and as are they. Our happiness is simply derived from different sources.”

“Thank you Vivienne.”

“Do hold onto that happiness while you can, my dear. Maker knows it can be fleeting in these troubled times.” Sincerity touched Vivienne’s voice then, reminding Halise why they were friends.

The redhead stood again, daring to hug the stoic woman. Vivienne reciprocated with surprising warmth, squeezing Halise’s shoulders before releasing her. Halise smiled genuinely at her. “I will do my best,” she replied.

*****


	15. Prompt – "I'm too sober for this"

“And for the first dance, would you prefer a remigold or a waltz?” Josephine asked pensively. She’d managed to pin Halise and Cullen down in her office for more than an hour to discuss wedding details. Halise was being all too patient, in Cullen’s opinion.

“The remigold is much more…Ferelden,” the ambassador continued nervously. “It will certainly pay homage to your heritage, Cullen. On the other hand, a waltz would be a bit more universal, and might draw more favor from the Orlesian nobility.” She rapped her chin with her hooked knuckle, looking from Halise to Cullen and back.

“I think something in the vein of a waltz would be fine, Josie,” Halise answered soothingly.

Josephine’s face lit up. “Excellent!” She noted their choice on the parchment stuck to the board permanently attached to her hand. “Alright, for our next order of business—”

“Maker’s breath, Josephine!” Cullen interrupted a bit too loudly. “How much more of this am I to endure before you release me from this room!” Her expression was shocked at first, but then she glared at him, jaw set tight and eyes narrow.

“Cullen,” Halise cooed, moving between him and Josephine and settling on her knees in front of him. “Be nice, would you? Josephine has a lot on her plate trying to put together a nice wedding for us without pissing off the nobility. I know you and I would do alright without it, but what kind of position would we be putting _her_ in? And don’t you want us to have money to keep funding the Inquisition?” Her hands held his delicately, and her smile was lovely as she gazed up at him.

Damn. She was right. Cullen let out a heavy sigh, his chest falling so much that his leather coat squeaked. “I am too sober for this,” he murmured with a little smirk at his fiancé.

She grinned brightly at him. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

*****


	16. Prompt – “I lost our baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little dad!Cullen

Cullen’s day at the Templar rehabilitation clinic had been a terribly long one, filled with vomit and screaming and violence. He’d been doing it for years, but it didn’t make the bad days any easier. It did ease things a bit when Halise was there, but with their one-and-a-half-year-old baby, Aurora, at home, she could only come in to help a couple of days a week. On his walk home, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to see their smiling faces.

When he came in through the front door, his wife was nowhere in any of the main rooms. He called out to her, only just catching her response from the bedrooms. A little sigh of relief escaped his chest. Fear still gripped him—however unreasonably—when he couldn’t find her. It was completely unlikely that anything would have happened to her, but their history warranted at least a modicum of concern.

Halise was running around their bedroom, practically turning it upside down. Varric’s acquaintance, Bianca, had been creating increasingly more complex prosthetics for Halise, and she wore one carved in the shape of a hand while she tore apart their bedroom. In the far corner of the room, a teeny little figure stood under a mossy green baby blanket, cutting the figure of an itty-bitty ghost. Cullen pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

His wife’s viridescent eyes darted up to meet his, a beaming smile lighting up her face. “Oh, thank Mythal you’re home!” she cried melodramatically, running over to him to give him a kiss. “I lost our baby! I can’t find little Aurora _anywhere_!!!”

An adorably tiny giggle rose from under their daughter’s baby blanket.

Cullen played along with a deep gasp. “Oh no! Where have you looked for her?!”

They traveled around the room, Halise gesturing to everything as she narrated. “I looked in all the drawers in our dresser. Then I looked in the closet. I checked under the covers.” They were rounding toward their little green ghost while she spoke. “I looked under the bed. And I checked in the chest. I don’t know where she is!”

They crept quietly toward Aurora’s cloaked body, grinning wildly at each other. Cullen’s hand hovered just over the blanket. “Did you cheeeeck…” He drew it out. “Under here?!” He yanked the blanket off their toddler, sending her shrieking with delight across the room onto their bed, strawberry blonde curls swinging and bouncing along as she ran.

They chased after her, both of them setting upon her with tickling fingers and rending cacophonous laughter from her adorable little mouth. Cullen lifted her over his head, blowing a raspberry against her chubby tummy. She squealed and thrashed tugging at his hair and giggling maniacally. Halise chuckled at the display, her eyes glimmering with love.

This—his girls—made everything worth it.

*****


	17. Prompt – “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Halise cackled maniacally as Cullen’s fingers tickled her sides. She could barely breathe, and he was merciless in his tickle torture. Even in their nudity in his quarters, he tickled her so much she thought she might burst a blood vessel. He laughed on top of her, wiggling his fingers against her waist and watching her writhe.

The sound of one of his tower doors slowly creaking open destroyed the moment in an instant. They stilled in silence, waiting for whoever walked in to see that Cullen wasn’t there and leave. But, alas, a man’s timid voice, instantly recognizable to either of them, called out, “Uhh, Commander?”

Halise slammed her eyes shut so hard her whole face contracted. She heard a grumbling sigh leave Cullen’s throat as he exited the bed and dressed in black breeches and a tunic. “Fucking Jim,” Halise muttered under her breath.

Cullen brought his finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet before he descended the ladder into his office. “What?!” he growled. That scout had the worst timing in all of Thedas—worse, even, than Corypheus.

She listened to him drone on for longer than she should’ve had to, feeling a crazed expression overtake her face as she waited for him to leave. But he went on and on and on about guard rotations and bedding and some nonsense about writing reports. Halise was on the verge, but held herself back. Until Jim started in on the subject of stable maintenance.

“Jim!!!” she shouted down, still out of view, and more pleased than she should have been when his voice stopped cold. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?!”

He answered her, faltering and stammering in his reply. “Uh—I-Inquisitor! Your Grace, I-I was just—”

“Leaving?” she hollered. “Thank you very much! The commander will speak to you later, if that’s amenable to you!”

“V-very!” Jim called up. The sound was quickly followed by those of running footsteps and a door closing and locking.

Cullen was still laughing when his head crested the top of the ladder.

*****


	18. Prompt – “I’m a big girl now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dad!Cullen strikes again!!!

“Hope! Get down from that branch before you fall and break something!” Cullen shouted at his youngest daughter, already four years old. Her six-year-old sister, Aurora snickered loudly from the base of the tree, drawing a glare from her father that sent her scrambling to her mother.

Halise scooped up their oldest, holding the little girl against her hip. “How did you even get up there?” she called out.

“I’m a big girl now!” Hope’s little voice chirped. “I climbed up like a bug!”

The branch wobbled under her, hurling Cullen’s heart into his throat. Halise stood beside him, calmer than he was for whatever reason. “Well, can you climb back down like a bug?” she asked smoothly. She didn’t want to alarm their child, that much he understood.

“Nope!” the teeny strawberry blonde replied happily. “I’m stuck!” She giggled, loud and squeaky despite her understanding that she was unable to extricate herself from the tree.

Cullen moved below the branch, quickly determining that he could catch her without incident if she agreed to jump down to him. He held his arms out in front of him, watching Hope the whole time. “My dearest, sweet Hope,” he grinned up at her, “would you jump down into Daddy’s arms?”

“I don’t wanna! I can see Auntie Mia’s house from here!” Cullen knew she couldn’t, but she likely thought their neighbor’s house was Mia’s.

“Jump down to me, baby,” he asked again. “If you do, we’ll go see Auntie Mia tomorrow!” They were already going to Mia’s the next day, so, that, he could guarantee for her. He stretched his arms out further. “Come on, my sweet, jump down to Daddy!”

“Jump down to Daddy, Hope,” Halise called out behind him. “Be like a shooting star, like Mommy was before you were born! Faaaallll out of the sky into Daddy’s arms so he can love you, too!!!” Cullen could hear the smile in her voice. They’d told the girls a fairy tale about how they met until the little ones were old enough to understand what truly happened.

Hope gasped, clapping her hands over her little mouth, brilliant green eyes sparkling in the shifting light of the leaves swaying in the cool breeze. “I can be a shooting star like Mommy?!” she squealed.

“Yes,” her mother answered, adjusting Aurora’s body on her hip, “but you have to fall from the sky into Daddy’s arms! Can you do that, baby?” Cullen watched as Hope nodded. “Okay, so when I say, ‘three,’ you jump okay?” Another little nod. “One, two, three!”

Hope’s little legs barely pushed her off the branch, and Cullen thought for a moment that his breath might never return to his chest. But when she fell into his arms, and when he caught her, he inhaled so sharply he almost passed out. She giggled and squeaked and chirped happy little musings about being a shooting star like her mommy as he held her close, fear slowly loosening its grip on his heart.

“Hope?” he asked, trying to mask the worry in his voice. “Please don’t climb the tree like a bug again until you can climb back down like a bug, alright? Daddy can only catch so many shooting stars.”

“But now I’m your shooting star, too,” she whispered, her tiny finger poking the end of Cullen’s nose and bringing an unlikely laugh up from his chest.

“Yes you are, baby. Yes you are.”

*****


	19. Just a Little Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!
> 
> Prompt - In the Herald's Rest + Tickling the Balls! (bonus points if the tickler is under a table and the tavern is full of people)
> 
> Needless to say, I went for the bonus points...

Cullen was _not_ a drinker. He held a general dislike for anything that took him out of his good sense. He’d made…poor decisions while impaired in the past. But he’d made a bad decision whilst sober that evening—he let Varric talk him into playing a drinking game. Truly, a number of people had let Varric into letting them play this drinking game, including Halise. She may actually have been the one who talked him into it. He couldn’t be sure with the way they’d both bombarded him with pleas.

She, Dorian, Iron Bull, Sera, Blackwall, Cassandra, and Josephine—much to Cullen’s shock—had joined in the ill-advised merriment. Each of them wrote a name down on a scrap of parchment, then dropped it into a wooden bowl to be scrambled and redistributed. Then, without looking, each person at the table had to lick the back of the parchment and stick it to their forehead for everyone else to see. The wearer of the parchment could ask no more than twenty questions to the others at the table to find out who they were. If they failed, they had to drink a whole alcoholic beverage.

Cullen lost. Round after round, he lost. Titles and names of Orlesian nobility, nicknames for the Chargers, and names of members of the rebuilding staff had been his undoing. Mug after mug of ale, and somehow Josephine, Halise, and Iron Bull had barely drunk a drop. Still, he was coherent, if a bit unsteady on his feet, when Halise stood and ushered him into a corner booth in the back of the Herald’s Rest. He would never stop hating the name of that damn tavern.

The booth was dark, and he knew he tended to get a bit handsy when he’d had a few drinks, his inhibitions falling away like autumn leaves. They sat beside one another for only a moment before the first inhibition drifted off. Emboldened by the drink and the dark, he drew Halise’s mouth to his, holding onto her chin firmly enough for him to bring her to him, but softly enough that she could move away if she so desired. She did not so desire.

Her body pressed into his, their hands exploring each other’s clothed bodies as their tongues twined together. Cullen palmed her breast, squeezing just hard enough to rend a quiet groan from his love. Fortunately for both of them, the tavern bustled and roared with activity, the world moving on around them without sparing them even a glance.

It was only when Halise’s hand clutched at his inner thigh that he regretted that very same fact. She squeezed at his groin once, instantly drawing blood away from his brain, twice, wresting his sense even further from his grasp, and a third time, pulling his lips from hers and scooting his body as far into the booth as he could get. His plan was to stop there, but she’d misread his body language.

Cullen watched, helpless and piqued, as Halise smirked and ducked under the table too swiftly for him to stop her. Before her hair had even had a chance to follow her under, she was already working the laces open on his breeches. The second inhibition slipped into the night without a sound the moment his cock sprang free from its leather confines. Lithe, steely fingers wrapped around his stiff length, pumping him slowly and drawing his torso forward to lean on the table. His eyes rolled back when her other hand cupped his sac. She squeezed and tugged skillfully, right up until her pinky brushed him in a way that sent a ticklish zing up his spine and out of his mouth in a laugh.

His eyes flew open, flying about the room to verify that no one’s attention had been drawn by his indecorous chuckle. A whispered little “sorry” emanated from under the table. But the apology’s sincerity was quickly diminished by the feeling of her warm, welcoming mouth around the head of his cock. He bit down on his index finger so hard he thought it might bleed to stop the groan that rose in his chest. The sensation of her bobbing up and down, tongue travelling in deft little circles around the head, and her fingers squeezing his sac, coupled with the exhilarating fear of getting caught sent him to the ragged edge faster than he was accustomed to.

“Where’d the Inquisitor get off to?” Iron Bull’s voice rang out loudly, ripping Cullen’s eyes open. The massive Qunari stood right near the edge of their table, staring down at Cullen with a quizzical look on his face. Undoubtedly, Halise could hear him, but it didn’t stop her. If anything, it spurred her on, her ministrations growing more ardent even as Bull stood less than a foot from her.

“I—uh—think she went to get some—” His words were interrupted when she took his whole length into her mouth, exposing the head of his cock to the hot, wet air in the back of her throat. He groaned loudly and involuntarily, slamming an open palm on the table and pinching his eyes closed so hard he felt the bridge of his nose wrinkle. _Shit_. He was certain they were caught.

But when his eyes opened again, he saw a look of mild concern on Bull’s face. “You okay, Boss?” he asked.

“I’ll be alright, Bull. I think the—” Another deep pull and another groan. “I think the ale’s not settling well tonight. Halise went to get something for my stomach. She should—” Again. “She should be back in a moment.” He did his best to smile, but if Iron Bull’s face was any indication, it looked exactly as pained and forced as it might have had his stomach actually been bothering him.

“Alright. Feel better, Cullen.” With that, the Qunari made his way back across the tavern and out of view of their booth.

The relief of not having been caught paired with the sensation of Halise’s talented tongue sent Cullen spilling into her mouth the second Bull was out of view. His fist hit the table with a loud _thud_ and his eyes crammed shut once more. She sucked him until there was nothing left, swallowing his seed down while her lips still pressed against him. “Can I come back out?” she murmured just loud enough for him to hear over the thrum of his heartbeat.

He answered weakly in the affirmative, and she crept back up to take a seat at his side. Her long curls swished over her shoulders as she glanced about a final time, ultimately turning to smile at him. “Maker’s breath, Halise,” he panted out, “you’ll be the death of me.”

Her grin grew in answer. “Just a little death.”

*****


End file.
